


Once You Know (You Can Never Go Back)

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Prompt Fills 2018 [48]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M, Stargate: Continuum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 00:18:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16712839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the Traveling comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Multiverse, Cam Mitchell +/ Any,If you ever plan to motor west / Travel my way, take the highway that is best / Get your kicks on Route 66- (Nat King Cole)"Continuum!Cam finishes fixing up his yellow Mustang and takes it for a test drive along Route 66. And picks up a stranger with a familiar face.





	Once You Know (You Can Never Go Back)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/gifts).



Once Cam got the yellow Mustang all fixed up, he decided to take it for a test drive. A long test drive. Along Route 66. He could start where he was in San Bernardino and follow it along to Kansas, then depart and head for Auburn, look for the old Mitchell Farm - which probably wasn’t the Mitchell Farm in this timeline, since Grandpa Mitchell hadn’t made it back from the war (thanks, Ba’al). As long as he wasn’t trying to contact Sam or Daniel, he wasn’t causing trouble, and he could go on a road trip if he wanted.

Because he was feeling a little reckless - and, okay, a little lonely - when he stopped in Flagstaff for food and a refuel, he picked up a hitchhiker. There was a guy in the parking lot wearing an old military surplus jacket and carrying an old duffel bag. He had a watch cap pulled over his dark hair, a scruffy face, but he looked clean and healthy enough.

So Cam finished his meal at the nice mom-n-pop diner, got two cups of coffee to go, and stopped beside him just outside the diner door.

 _Normal or bust,_ the man’s handwritten sign read. He had very neat handwriting, perfect print, and had also illustrated his sign with an old-fashioned boat of a Cadillac, complete with the fancy fins.

“Normal, Illinois, you mean?” Cam asked.

The man looked up - and Cam recognized him.

Evan Lorne. They’d gone to the Academy together, been in flight school together.

Been in bed together.

But not in this timeline. In another timeline. Another lifetime.

“Yes, that is what I mean,” Evan said. He smiled, and his bright, dimpled smile was heartbreakingly familiar. “You headed that way?”

“Not all the way, but if you don’t mind the scenic route, I’m taking a drive on the old Mother Road.”

“I don’t mind the scenic route.” Evan lowered the sign, offered a hand. “Evan Lorne.”

“Cam Mitchell,” he said, because in this timeline he didn’t exist, got to keep his real name. He shook Evan’s hand. His handshake was just like Cam remembered, brief but firm, confident. “Coffee?”

“You’re a lifesaver.” Evan accepted it, cradled it in his hands, then took a long sip.

Cam kept waiting for a hint of recognition, something, but Evan was just smiling at him, pleased and relieved. And - Evan before had been reserved, especially when he was on duty, even if sometimes his sarcasm bled through his _officer and a gentleman_ mien.

“My car’s this way,” Cam said, and led him across the parking lot.

“That’s a nice machine,” Evan said, running a hand over the hood admiringly. “Yellow, though?”

Cam shrugged. “It came that way.” He slid into the driver’s seat, unlocked the doors for Evan to climb into the passenger seat.

Evan kept his duffel bag between his knees, buckled himself in, but he didn’t quite relax.

“So, Evan Lorne,” Cam said, “what’s your story? What’s in Normal, Illinois?”

“I just threw a dart at a map, and, well, normal has never been part of my life, so it seemed like kismet, and now I’m on my way.” Evan shrugged. “What about you, Cam Mitchell?”

Cam refused to lie to this familiar stranger, and besides, what contact, if any, did this version of Evan have with the Stargate Program? Which didn’t even exist anyway. “Used to be in the Air Force. Separated from service. I’m a mechanic now. Fixed up this old beauty and decided to take her for a road trip to see how she goes.”

“Oh yeah? You were in? How long?”

 _In,_ Evan called it. So in this timeline he’d been in, too. “Started in ninety-two, separated last year.”

“I started in ninety-two too. Did my ten years, got out. You enlisted?”

“Zoomie.”

“Ah. I was transport.”

“Hercules?”

“You betcha,” Evan drawled. “So - you were a lifer. What happened?”

“It wasn’t for me,” Cam said. “Not anymore.”

“I made it to captain and - it wasn’t for me either. How far did you go?”

“Light-bird.”

Evan whistled appreciatively. “Well, _sir,_ thanks for giving this old flyboy a lift East.”

“You can call me Cam.” He eyed Evan sidelong.

Evan relaxed a little, his grip on the strap of his duffel bag loosening. He was probably armed. Cam was, because he was still an officer, even if he no longer had his wings.

“You want some tunes?” Cam asked.

Evan considered. “What have you got?”

“Got an iPod full of stuff,” Cam said. He pointed to the glove box. “If you poke in there, you can find it. I managed to get it wired into the sound system.”

Evan opened the glove box carefully, found the iPod, thumbed it on. “What are the chances that you and I have the same taste in music?”

“I’m sure we can agree on something.” Cam had spent a ridiculous amount of time building up the contents of his iPod so they were the same as what he’d had before. It had been a relief, finding that all the bands he knew and loved still existed, had the same hit songs. Sure, his entire family line had been wiped out, but he could still get all the ACDC he wanted.

“Got a favorite playlist?” Evan asked.

Because Cam was feeling kind of daring, he said, “Try the one called _Bluebell.”_

Evan cast him a look sidelong, which told Cam what he wanted to know, that in this timeline his middle name was also Bluebell. It was something he said he’d never told, well, anyone. But he said, “All right,” and set it to shuffle, and Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly” filled the car.

They hit the highway, and Evan sat back, closed his eyes, humming along with the song.

Cam hummed along as well, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

When Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi” came on, Evan sang along softly, almost absently. The Evan who Cam had known had grown up with her music, singing this song. Cam didn’t know the lyrics so well, but then this hadn’t been his playlist, originally - no, it’d been Evan’s, for when they were sprawled across Cam’s bunk after a long and energetic session of lovemaking. So Cam only sang the nonsensical bits, and Evan sang the lyrics, and as the highway unspooled behind them, they glanced at each other, studying each other, smiled at something shared.

And then “Otherside” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers spilled over the speakers, and this one - this one Cam knew a little too well, because he was on the other side of an impassable divide, and he’d listened to it an awful lot. So he sang along at the top of his lungs, and Evan joined in, knew the lyrics by heart too. On the bigger choruses Cam kicked over to the harmony, and Evan grinned at him, singing with abandon even though neither of them were particularly good.

When the song finished, Cam’s heart was racing.

And then a new song filled the car, Nat King Cole’s version of Route 66.

Evan burst out laughing. “That’s quite the juxtaposition.”

“You have to admit this song is apropos,” Cam protested.

Evan’s laughter subsided, and he eyed Cam up and down. “It is,” he said. “Just - from one to the other was very sudden.”

“Do you dislike the song?”

“No.” And then Evan added, “How do you like to get your kicks?”

“Speed,” Cam said. “I do like me some speed.”

“Spoken like a true zoomie.”

Cam glanced at him sidelong. “How do you like to get your kicks, these days?”

“I’m not one for kicks, anymore,” Evan said. He tipped his head back, studied the highway ahead. “Mostly I make my way painting and drawing. I mean, sure, I’ll paint a house if it gets me enough cash to get a meal and a bed for the night, but - ”

“Bruegel, Turner, El Greco, Van Gogh?”

Evan sat up straight. “Why do I get the sense that you know everything about me, even though you’re a total stranger?”

Cam said, with unfortunate honesty, “I’m pretty sure I don’t know you at all, not really, not where it counts.” But he’d been too free with his knowledge of Evan-from-before.

Evan said, “Pull over.” His expression was blank, tense.

Cam obeyed as soon as it was safe, left the engine idling, turned to him. “I don’t mean to freak you out. It’s - there’s no way to explain it.”

Evan shook his head. “Don’t talk.” Then he leaned across the gear shift, curled his hand at Cam’s collar, and kissed him.

Cam’s eyes slipped closed, and he lost himself in the familiar sensation. Evan tasted of coffee and something else, something almost sweet. The way his tongue curled against Cam’s was achingly familiar, and Cam reached out, stroked the soft hair at the nape of Evan’s neck, and he shivered, because his neck was sensitive -

Evan pulled back, gasping. “I’ve kissed you before, haven’t I?”

Cam shook his head, smiled sadly. “No, you never have.”

“Then how come you kiss just how I like?”

“I can’t really explain it,” Cam said.

The song on the stereo switched. Red Hot Chili Peppers. “Parallel Universe.” Cam darted a glance at his iPod, alarmed. Evan followed his gaze, and his brow furrowed. Then he looked back at Cam, who shrugged helplessly.

“I literally cannot explain. I mean, I’m capable of it, but if I do -”

Evan leaned in again, pressed his hand to Cam’s chest, right above his beating heart. “Let me guess, they’ll take you away?”

“Something like that.”

“Then,” Evan said, reaching out and turning the keys in the ignition, cutting the engine, “don’t tell me what you know.”

Cam raised his eyebrows, confused.

But then Evan popped the lever for Cam’s seat. It sank back, and Evan was climbing into his lap. “Show me what you know.” And he leaned down for a long, slow, thorough kiss.

“Not here, not like this,” Cam said, gasping against Evan’s mouth. “You deserve better.”

“Do I? You don’t even know me.”

And Cam couldn’t take it anymore, the lies, the deception, the pretending that the place he’d come from had never existed, wasn’t real, was meaningless.

“In another lifetime, Evan Bluebell Lorne, I love you.”

Evan sat back, his weight familiar on Cam’s thighs. He stared down at Cam, thumb stroking the line of his jaw almost absently, though the feather-lightness of his touch was utterly distracting. “All right,” he said. “Drive. I’ll go wherever you go.”

“Not to Normal?”

Evan climbed back into his own seat, buckled himself back in. “Like I said, normal’s never really been part of my life.”

Cam, still overheated and turned on, managed to fumble himself back into the upright position, straighten his clothes. “All right. We’re going to Kansas.”

“What’s in Kansas?”

“The normal I never had, in this lifetime.”

“Guess neither of us is going to ever get any normal,” Evan said.

Cam turned the car back on, eased back out onto the highway. “But we finally get each other.” When he glanced at Evan, Evan was smiling.

Cam smiled back at him, and then he began to sing along to the next song on the playlist.

 _Road trippin’ with my two favorite allies_ _  
_ _Fully loaded, we got snacks and supplies..._

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Red Hot Chili Peppers Song "Otherwise"
> 
> Lyrics from the Red Hot Chili Peppers Song "Road Trippin'"


End file.
